Siren
by Assimbya
Summary: AU. Erik is angered by Christine's betrayal, and longs to get revenge against her. But he still needs her voice, and he will do the unspeakable to keep that voice with him.
1. The Lake

Siren

Erik dragged the sobbing girl out to the shore of the lake.

"Please Angel, do not do this to me!" she cried. "I know that I should not have betrayed you like that, but you know that I am always yours, please, forgive me!"

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Once Erik might have heeded her, might have said that if she had learned her lesson then she might go, if she never did it again. But no more. His pain when she had pledged her love to the Vicomte de Changy was too terrible, he could no longer forgive her each time she angered him.

It was her fault that he was hunted down, her fault that all knew of his presence. He loved her, he could not live without her – but he could not live with her either. He needed that voice, needed that angelic voice – but the woman to whom it belonged was destroying him.

Christine knelt at his feet, pleading, "Angel, do not cast me from you! You are all I have, why do you do this to me? I know that I went against you, but I knew no better. Please, do not make me leave you."

Her words only served to harden Erik's heart. He said, his soft voice nonetheless carrying across the lake, resonating in Christine's mind. "You will never have to leave me." And with that he pushed her into the lake.

She slipped, her feet finding no hold on the smooth stones. And she fell, into the dark waters through which she had once been carried, under his spell, into his world. She floundered in the murky waters from which candles had once sprouted. The waters engulfed her, dragging her down, demanding that she belong to them.

Christine Daae could not swim. In a matter of minutes her thrashing was over and there was silence. Pure silence. Silence such as Erik has had too much of. But not for long. Soon a silvery figure slipped out from the water. She began to sing. The angelic voice of Christine Daae once again filled the lake. Erik turned away, satisfied.

This lake had needed a siren.


	2. Song

A/N: Due to a request from Senna Whales, this is now more then a one-shot story. It won't be too much longer, probably one chapter after this, but I decided to continue the story. To my wonderful reviewers: Senna Whales: Thanks for all your comments. As you can see, I made the editing changes. I decided to keep my strange tense change, because, believe it or not it was intentional. And absolutly love "Little Lotte of the Shade"! Phantomy cokkies: Glad you liked it. As you can see, I changed the catagory. Madmoselle Phantom: Glad you enjoyed it. 

Siren

Erik sat at his organ, but he could not play. He could only listen to her voice, day and night, morning and evening. He did not eat, nor sleep. For her voice was always there, haunting him.

If for nothing else, the beauty kept him from doing anything else but listening. Her voice had enchanted him in life, and now, in death, it seemed to have become even more beautiful. He could now have the voice without the woman, and the voice held all the perfection that the woman could never achieve. He could sit and gaze across the lake, and see her silvery form, singing. Always. She never tired.

But even aside from the pure beauty of the voice itself, the sadness it conveyed kept him there, listening. Often she sang from Othello, and it broke his heart to think of. She sang Desdemona's song as she begged for mercy from her husband, her lover. And she had found none. Desdemona…Othello…. Christine…Erik…. the names strung together pained him, struck a blade of white-hot iron into his heart to think of.

His hand darted across the keys of the organ, playing. His notes merged with hers, melding, combining. He was playing Othello, the last scene. He pulled his hands from the keys as if they had burned him. What had he been doing? He could not play with her, could not play that of all things. He was playing to his own death. His own tragedy.

He felt dizzy, confused. His mind was bound up with the lake, with the singing, and he was not thinking of anything else. It was probably lack of food and sleep that was doing this to him, he tried to tell himself, but he could not think rationally. Her voice haunted him. It followed him as he wandered his home, for he always returned to the shore of the lake where he could hear her voice. For her had to hear it.

He caught his reflections as he past one of the mirrors in his home. Aside from his face, for he had put aside his mask now that there was no one to see him, he was skeletal and haggard, his clothes hanging on an even more lanky frame then ever. There were dark circles under his worn eyes. Or course, for he had not eaten nor slept.

He realized suddenly that he was dying. He had thought that hearing Christine's voice like this would help him to live.

But it was killing him.


	3. The Boat

A/N: So here is the last chapter. This is for you, Medea (EMPC) 

Siren

Erik stood on the shore, staring at the lake. Somewhere there was Christine, somewhere was the Siren who had plagued him these past days. He stared at the depths of the dark water, gazing into the endless darkness. Her song was still there.

The water was so black. He had never thought it dark before. Once golden candelabras had risen from it. Now the only thing that would rise from it was the silvery figure of the Siren.

He saw his gondola still docked there, ready for him to ride upon it to his chosen destination. He imagined that night, Christine sitting there, gazing at everything around her wide-eyed, singing as he rowed, gliding near-effortlessly through the water. The one night when he was truly and purely happy. It was over now.

For no reason that he could understand, Erik stepped into the gondola. He took the oar in his hand and began to glide across the lake. The lake was smooth, glassy. The surface was undisturbed except for the movement of his boat. He could almost imagine that there was nothing beneath those waters.

Then he realized what had been unsettling him. The singing had disappeared. He was grateful, but also sorrowed, for his thoughts and mind had been bound up in the singing, that there was nothing else to life.

Then, he heard it again. This time it was more hauntingly beautiful then ever before. He let go of the oar, and let the boat drift as he listened in ecstasy to the music. The boat drifted against the rocks. Erik hardly had time to think before he was plunged into the icy water.

The last thing he remembered was falling into darkness before he lay in the cold arms of his beloved once again.


End file.
